Odyssey

CHAPTER 11

Kamahl closed his eyes as the axe exploded in a ball of flame, the pulse of magic leaving an afterimage even through his eyelids. His horse shied, nearly toppling him despite his precautions in turning the mare's head away from the spell. Seton roared and sprang, his apelike features furious as he raised his mace and swung at a caravan guard. The man shattered under the force of the blow, blood spraying and spotting the centaur red as he moved toward a new target.

The pair had tracked Kirtar and his forces west for days.

The Order rode hard, and the barbarian and the forest warrior had closed slowly, if at all. Then the tracks were obscured by a caravan. Seton had sworn loudly as wagons and herds of animals obscured the trail. Casting along the road to see if Kirtar had left the western highway consumed even more time. It appeared that the caravan followed the lieutenant, and Kamahl stopped tracking and rode hard, gambling that Kirtar would not change his path until they passed the obscuring travelers. They had hit the outer perimeter, and Seton watched the frog, Turg, break into a building and other guards from the caravan advance on the villagers. Such evil would not go unpunished.

Kamahl hurled flame. The magic congealed into dull red globes that sank into the bodies of the cowardly murderers. The caravan guards laughed at their apparent immunity to his attack. They came a few steps closer, then stopped and gasped as the barbarian's spell began to burn its way out. Kamahl felt a wave of weakness as the mercenaries charred to ash. His anger was drawing too much power into the spell, and he paused to control his rage. His horse shifted under him, and he jabbed his heels, sending the mount into the fight.

Seton rampaged through the camp, his club spraying his opponent's brains each time it landed. The caravan guards tried in vain to corner him, but the centaur's prodigious leaps carried him free. Seton then turned to take mercenaries from behind. He pushed his way through the herd of captive animals to reach their tenders. The barbarian could see his club raising high, then falling again.

Kamahl's horse froze, then began bucking under him. The beast that had stayed controlled through so much tumult went wild and spun. The barbarian could feel the horse dropping and beginning to roll. He threw himself from the saddle, drawing his sword in midair. He landed at a run, turning to see what creature attacked his mount. There was nothing tearing at the beast, though it screamed in rage and fear as it twisted in the dirt.

A leather-clad mercenary charged toward him, an ivory baton raised in the air as he regarded Kamahl and his horse. The leader waved as if in introduction and turned toward the animals closest to the barbarian. A herd of simple cattle stopped chewing their cud as one.

Kamahl knew that magic controlled the animals, for these cows were huge with heavy horns that stretched more than three feet from side to side. These were not dairy cows or animals being driven leisurely to the butcher but animals with fighting spirit. Whatever spell had kept them docile ceased, and he found their attention focused upon him. The cattle bellowed and charged, three bulls forcing their way to the front of the herd in their rush to close with him.

Kamahl spun a pillar of flame around himself, but the maddened animals disregarded it. He threw himself to the side as a long horn hooked through his shield and scored his armored belt. He gasped, his air knocked out by the impact. The barbarian did not want to play the butcher to livestock, and he ran under a wagon as the rest of the herd closed. The cows collided with the freight wagon, and he hobbled farther into the camp, gaining new strength as he shook off the bull's blow. A mercenary considered him an easy target as he struck from the rear. Kamahl's sword sheared through the falling club and cut the man's arm free. The stricken guard could not even scream as Kamahl's return stroke set his head free as well. Guards closing with the barbarian slowed, waiting for others to converge on the mountain warrior.

Seton broke into the ring of guardsman, trailing his own clump of pursuers. The centaur's club was covered in gore, and every swing sprayed blood wide. He moistened the club's head anew using Kamahl's opponents, smashing men down in three quick strokes before leaping. The barbarian could see the forest fighter's fangs clearly.

"Too slow!" the centaur shouted, raising his club like a standard. Blood ran down it and drenched his arm. "Where are your nets and snares now, hunters?"

He swung and knocked the wheel off a wagon, the oak and iron flying away in pieces. The centaur's arms fell again and wretched the other wheel free. Seton jumped to the side as the heavy freight bed tipped over and spilled a load of furs and hides over the ground. A heavy skin reminded the barbarian of the centaur's own hide.

"Murderers!" The cry was bestial in its fury. The giant dropped his club and leaped upon a guard, grabbing him up in two hands. Seton tore the man apart, hurling limbs.

Kamahl threw fiery knives into the stunned guards, reaping a deadly harvest before they turned to respond to this new attack. The outmatched mercenaries were caught between the barbarian and the crazed centaur, and Kamahl thought they stood no chance. Then they seemed to disappear, sidling into nonexistence. The mountain warrior shook his head violently and loosed a barrage of darts. Wails of pain sounded, and a guard faded back into existence, screaming as the projectile burned its way to his heart. Then silence fell again.

Kamahl threw more darts as he dove for cover, scrabbling behind an overturned wagon as he considered what was happening. Malign magic pulsed in the encampment. A mage was clouding his senses, hiding his enemies from him.

An opponent might be running to stab him from behind at this very moment. Kamahl hurled more darts behind him, but there were no screams. That meant nothing. Wild sprays of weaponry could not long protect the barbarian, and Kamahl focused, trying to see past the spell. He shoved his sword into the ground, taking strength from its solidity. He must see his enemy before he was struck down.

His vision wavered, images fading in and out of focus like a mirage. For a moment, everything was clear, and he could see the mercenary in the fancy clothes stepping carefully over the corpses of his men. The ivory wand was raised, and Kamahl focused on that as he willed the magical tool to combust, to explode into flame. The barbarian reached into the center of his own innate magic and brought it forth. The mountain warrior had to prop himself up with his sword as the ivory began to char. The panicked captain threw it away, and it blossomed into flame as it left his hand. The force of the magic took the man's arm, the fancy leather shrinking under the fierce heat and closing off the amputated limb. A fire elemental rose from the wand's remains.

The summoning grew greater; the inferno seemed to float a few feet off the ground, its colors pulsing. Shafts of ruby red flame danced in the heart of the creature. The center of the elemental was in constant motion, and a tendril of fire dipped down to the earth. The dirt fountained up as it burned, throwing off ash and clinkers. The soil had sand, and glass began to form. Obsidian began to solidify and merge with the debris orbiting the flame. The barbarian could feel his creature and its appetite. The elemental existed to burn, to devour substance. His hate, rage, and even fear had called with uncommon strength, and the fire creature crouched, ready to sweep away the enemy. Kamahl watched it drift, and a lick of flame reached out to a guard. Before he could make a sound, the elemental was on him. Flesh shrank away, and bones flared as the mountain warrior's summoning grew a little larger. Within seconds only ash remained to merge with the volcanic glass that hissed and popped as it fell away from the creature.

The cattle that chased Kamahl still followed the caravan's leader commands, and they charged from the wagon they had reduced to splinters. The elemental jumped to the herd, and the smell of cooking beef filled the air. There was only the sound of searing fat as tendrils of the creation pierced the thick hides and destroyed internal organs in an instant. The elemental grew larger still as it rendered the animals down and sucked up their bones and horns. These danced inside the flame as hunger temporarily gave way to curiosity. The remains of the bulls dwindled away, shards of hoof and bone becoming encased in glass as the fire weakened, then strengthened in new hunger.

"Such a marvel," Kamahl said and groaned in frustration. It was too strong! A creation to fight armies, and he had called this chaos. The barbarian looked around. Seton still bellowed, now some distance away, his club turning mercenaries into clumps of broken bones. The caravan animals were waking from their spells, and they voiced their confusion. A few houses in the village still appeared intact, but who knew how much longer that would be the case. His creature was hungry, and there were too few meals for its appetite. He caged it in its current place, ready to send it away. Regret at banishing so fine a creature filled his heart.

Turg jumped from a crowd of animals, his fist drawn back as he swung at Kamahl's head. This time the barbarian was not mired in spell, and he dodged. The mountain warrior's sword swung as he dropped, and only the amphibian's wild contortions in the air kept the monster from spilling blood onto the ground. The jack seemed to vanish as it landed in a pack of wolves. The beasts circled uncertainly, giving confused cries. Throughout the camp animals vented their confusion, and Kamahl vaulted to the top of the freight wagon to see if perhaps Seton was responsible.

There were few living guards anywhere nearby. Kamahl and the centaur had cut a bloody swathe, and no one seemed brave enough to close with the pair. Seton was standing amongst stacks of cages. The barbarian could see him ripping locks off to release the confused animals inside. He looked for signs of Turg, wondering where the treacherous frog lay hiding. As his eyes swung back to the village, he saw the ambassador and a group of mounted mercenaries.

Laquatus smiled. The merman waved, and Kamahl looked around, trying to see whom he was signaling. Mounted next the ambassador was a knight of the Order. The figure swayed, and the barbarian could see the man was missing a limb. He wondered why Laquatus would include such a wounded man in his party.

"I see you and your companion decided to join our little expedition," the aristocrat called mockingly, his horse shying as more and more of the captured animals vented their distress. "It appears the centaur has found one of his relatives," he called. Kamahl turned to see Seton back at the wagon reverently lifting the pelt of one of his people from the dirt.

"You will die," yelled Seton, laying aside the hide and grabbing up his bloody club. The few mercenaries not with the ambassador were running from the camp, leaving everything behind to avoid the coming battle.

"There are more important matters than you to attend to," the ambassador called back. "Besides, you will be far too busy taking care of all these animals to worry about me."

The ambassador was casting a spell, and it echoed over the encampment, redoubling in strength as old commands combined into new purpose. Kamahl felt it coming and crouched into fighting position.

The animals that had milled so uncertainly minutes before turned toward the barbarian and the centaur. Bears rhat Seton had freed from their cages snapped at the druid. Kamahl could see the surprise on the giant's face as beasts turned and saw him as an enemy.

Animals screamed in the remaining cages as Seton moved away. The malign spell picked up intensity, and a giant elk charged the centaur from the side. Its sore-matted hide still covered impressive muscles, and it threw itself at the druid with horns lowered. The line trailing from a ring in its nose caught a wagon wheel, and the heavy oak circle skidded through the dirt as it came at Seton. The centaur threw himself sideways, his flanks heavy with effort after the fight and his grief.

Kamahl threw spears of fire that formed a barrier against the approaching animals, covering the druid's escape. The barbarian looked to his penned elemental, the boundless hunger of the primal being perhaps the only answer to the carnivores that struggled from the cages and pens.

Bears, cougars, and wolves moved together toward the pair. Two Krosan dragonettes struggle from their enclosure, the six-legged reptiles ignoring the surrounding carrion as they closed.

The mountain warrior eyed the ambassador. Perhaps killing the merman would end the unnatural animosity. But the aristocrat and his escort had already disappeared, lost behind some piece of landscape or illusion. He readied his sword and the elemental-the coming slaughter of spellbound beasts a foulness to his soul.

"On my back," Seton commanded as he threaded through the flaming barriers Kamahl had formed to stop the animals. "If we stay, we only do the ambassador's will."

The barbarian looked for his horse, but it was lost in the madness.

"We can return once the spell has run its course, or I have turned it, but for now we must be away."

Kamahl paused only to free the elemental from his call. "Another time you will feed," he promised the flame. The ruby shafts in the creature seemed to pulse in agreement, and then the glass and ash collapsed to the ground in a superheated pile of debris. The barbarian sheathed his sword and swung himself up on Seton's back. The centaur's muscular body was as wide as a draft horse, and Kamahl resolved to reclaim his mount as soon as possible.

"We will meet again, Ambassador," he promised.

The animals came around the flaming barriers.

Seton left at a run.